


The Stake In the Pond

by Shigan



Series: Such Essential and Invisible Things [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Asami's got the mooooves, F/F, Fighting, Korrasami - Freeform, Martial Arts, my girlfriend is amazing, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3098729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shigan/pseuds/Shigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some disagreements must be solved by means beyond sweet kisses and good communication, especially for this couple. Asami takes Korra on. Air temple island holds its breath.</p><p>Takes place some weeks prior to 'Bedrolls'.</p><p>Someone asked me to write HOT, SWEATY, SCREAMING KORRA AND ASAMI ACTION, so I did! My way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stake In the Pond

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. Did you get that drink? No? Here you go.

It was the morning of the ultimate showdown. Dawn broke over Air Temple Island.

Asami Sato could hear the island slowly coming back to life. One by one, the monks would rise, greet the sun and gather for the prayer. She could already hear the rise of distant windbells, hollow and soft. Those who shared kitchen duty would already be up and hard at work. The smell of boiled vegetables and summer spices hung in the air.

It was still early, before the first heat. Way too early for the island’s airbender family to be up. The children would be asleep, and she doubted Pema and Tenzin would wake any time soon. Rohan had done a good job of keeping absolutely everyone awake yesterday. Luckily, her room was at the end of the building. She stepped out, past the row of guest rooms and looked to Tenzin’s room. None of them knew of the upcoming battle, and it was for the best. She repeated this to herself, biting her lips and moved on.

She crossed the yard, as silent as a bird, walked past the outer buildings before breaking into a slow jog.  She entered a gathering of tall, handsome bamboo, down a succession of narrow stairs and finally found herself in the place she had been looking for.  The spot was an open space, large enough to fit a pro-bending arena, but small enough to be hidden from plain sight by altitude and trees. Part of the opening was elevated to host the set of rotating wind screens, fully restored to train the new airbenders.

It was a good place to train, to spar or to duel. Her adversary had chosen well.

Asami drew a deep breath as she entered the clearing, alert and aware of every sound and movement. Her senses were on edge, battle-tuned and ready while scanning for the threat she knew should be here. She had been looking forward to this for a long time, prepared, rehearsed and trained with bloodied fists to rise to the call of destiny. Today was the day.

For a few moments, there was nothing there but the steady caress of wind in her hair, the crispness of the grass and the shallow rustle of leaves. Then, instinct kicked in, sending a spike of familiar cold through her spine, a warning of shadows at her back. Lowering her hands in visible fists, Asami turned her head half-way to acknowledge her awareness of the presence.

“Asami.”

She breathed and smiled weakly. It was a voice that filled her with many things.

“Good morning, Korra.” She said, not moving. Korra’s familiar, sauntering form emerged from the trees. The avatar looked Asami up and down, and raised an eyebrow.

“Interesting outfit.”

Asami rolled her shoulders casually and rested her hands on her hips, accentuating the rust, short-sleeved shirt. A low, round collar with crossed buttons tied it in front. The loose-hanging, neat cotton hung comfortably on her, matched by calf-long pants, black belt and simple, clothed shoes. It looked strangely fit facing Korra’s traditional blue top and wide-ended pants of southern Earth Kingdom style.

“We look good.” Korra grinned, her eyes never leaving Asami for a second.

“Keep that thought and see if you still agree when we’re done.” Asami said evenly, stretching her arms, then legs in familiar warm-up exercises. Korra remained where she was, twenty feet apart from Asami, looking relaxed and well-rested.

“We don’t _have_ to do this, you know.” Korra said.

“Oh, I think we do. I know you have been thinking about it.”

Korra hmm-ed, teeth showing. “So, how about the rules?”

“No bending. Physical arts only. You bend, you lose.”

“You do realize that’s like asking me to fight on only one leg or using one arm right? Bending is what I was trained for.” Korra guffawed.

“You also bragged, rather loudly, that you’re a natural ace in the ‘kick-and-punch-and-scream’ arts. I’m just taking you up on that claim.” Asami said. She lowered herself into a crouch to stretch her legs, Korra cringe a little at the underlying accusation.

“Sooo, full bam, no stop?”

“One of us has to give in the end.” Asami said. She finished up and fell into a loose combat stance, feet apart and arms low, palms turned away from the other. Her hair was tied tightly back at the low of her neck. Korra thought she looked beautiful, deadliness and all.

“As long as there is honor and kisses for the winner. Heh.”

Asami sighed exasperatedly. “Korra, be quiet and _fight me_.”

The forest became eerily quiet as the avatar stepped forward and took a stance of her own, lower and sturdier, water over earth. Korra set her mind to focus, feeling flickers of guilt leave her in the emptiness beyond. She had messed up. She _knew_ it. Insulting your girlfriend’s diligent toil in the dojo was not a smart move, especially when said girlfriend could kick major butt. Asami’s challenge was justifiable and once she set her mind to something there was just no changing it. Ever. The exquisitely penned challenge letter had arrived within days.

There was a tiny shift in Asami’s body, almost imperceptible.

Then she was moving, fluid like the breeze, and Korra moved to meet her.

<.<.<.<.<.

Jinora woke up to something like a loud bang. She wasn’t sure. It could have been a dream, even If she had not been dreaming. For one wild moment, she thought maybe Meelo had snuck into her room again and farted for fun. No, it couldn’t be. The sun was just up and her brother was a world-class sleepyhead, and so was Ikki. Those two could not have been the cause. She checked her siblings. Both were fast asleep.

So where had the sound come from?

She stepped out and walked pass a troupe of monks on their way to breakfast. Several of the familiar faces bowed to her in respect. She raised her hand and repaid the courtesy before hurrying on. She didn’t sense any immediate danger in the vicinity but the experience left an odd feeling, as if there was something that needed her attention.

It didn’t _feel_ like a spirit, but she couldn’t be sure.

She hurried into the courtyard and past the main building and was momentarily overwhelmed by the sun and its shearing light. The day would be a swelter.

She stood there for awhile, listening, trying to find the odd sensation that had roused her. For a few moments she heard nothing but the horns of distant boats and the buzz of insects. Then, A small patter of feet caught her attention. She turned around, just in time to see a flash of orange and yellow cloth disappear into the trees.

Jinora made a face, and then followed, brushing past branches and tall grass, trying to keep pace with the familiar, small figure running away from her. She wanted to call, but the woods felt off today, the spirits were restless and excited and she felt wrong to disturb them. A small, spiderlike spirit grabbed onto her robes as she walked.

The trees cleared, giving away to a small opening with thick, knee-long grass speckled with white flowers. Several dragonfly-like spirits burst through the air, circling the small culprit she had been chasing.

Rohan.

The small boy stood there, grinning at her. He stomped his bare feet and pointed into the trees. His hair was still wild from sleep and wearing his sleep clothes. She was surprised he had gotten away from mother. Jinora walked up to him, baffled and curious at once.

Rohan had always been prone to run off on his own and was sometimes even harder to control than Meelo, especially because he was so blasted _quiet_. Where Meelo was rumbustious and ear-shattering loud, Rohan was something akin to his brother’s shadow. They were equally boisterous boys with more energy than their parents could really take. Jinora had always thought they would get along fabulously… if Rohan would just _speak_.

Four years old and overflowing with intelligent games, but no speech.

Jinora sighed and turned her worries aside. Rohan was still trying to get her attention and pointed ahead, the spirits encircled his excited and unknowing frame. He stared her in the eyes, his mouth articulating with no words as he waved his arms. An odd sensation was suddenly building behind Jinora’s forehead, something that was _almost_ a sound. Her eyes widened.

No… it couldn’t be! Had _Rohan…?_

A scream cut through any thoughts she might have had at this point. Jinora stiffened and crossed the meadow quickly, gathering her brother in her arms while a trail of excited spirits puffed at them from all directions. Something akin to a loud, wooden crack came from the same direction, followed by another cry of forced exertion. Jinora furrowed her brows and strained her ears, she knew that voice.

_Korra…?_

<.<.<.<.<.<.<

The match had begun traditionally enough, with Korra easily taking the offensive.

Asami had expected that. Korra was a natural athlete and bred from a tribe of warrior-hunters, this, coupled with her lifelong avatar training and the younger girl’s tendency to excel in fighting did not inculcate a defensive mind. To her, the tactic of ‘strike fast and overwhelm’ had almost always been effective, and when paired with Korra’s immensely powerful bending, Asami could easily see why.

Asami narrowed her breathing as she dodged another series of fast-paced kicks, moving backwards one at a time. Korra’s inane bragging had been no farce, she _was_ good, and most of her ego was justified by a harsh physical education shaped from plentitudes of raw talent. She was a superb martial arts artist and good at thinking on her feet. Take the bending away however, and you would leave the avatar’s style with some cracks. They were small, like squeezing water from a stone, but in and between their breaths and flashes, they were _there._

And she was going for them.

Asami felt time slow. A slow, cold sensation began to flow from somewhere in her center as she let the familiar sensation of cool composure take over, like icy water coursing through her veins. Korra’s movement became clearer and disjointed, like a bad stop-motion animation, as she lunged forward in another spinning kick, aiming for Asami’s shoulder. She side-stepped through a rotating motion, threw a punch, and missed with a hair, as Korra snapped her body mid-air. Asami caught Korra’s arm, spun and channeled the momentum through her core and into a throw. Korra landed several feet away, breaking into a roll like liquid. The avatar looking slightly surprised, and got back on her feet.

Korra was _grinning_ , with fire in her eyes. She matched Asami’s ice as she returned to her stance, every muscle loose and ready. Then, she gathered herself and attacked again.

Asami sidestepped her charge, flung out her elbow and missed again, as Korra whirled and stabbed a low, straight-armed punch of her own, one that forced Asami back and put her on the defensive. There was just so much _force_ in the younger girl’s style, a source of unrelenting power, and it made Asami feel like she was fighting the sea. Korra was skilled, _very_ skilled, and not just that. She moved with a deadly poise, like a dragon, making sweeping, crushing jabs at her with whatever she could throw in Asami’s direction.

Korra did not do fighting second-rated, but neither did she do it with absolute grace. She had never learned to retrain and conserve herself, used to go full speed on her bending powers, and unused to husband the energy like in the physical arts. She had never needed to fight at the terrifying disadvantage of having your smallest mistake used to burn or impale you on ice, like a non-bender. Asami could feel the numbing cold fill her completely, taking over slowly but unreservedly, cleansing her mind empty and setting her heart free.

She stepped back, doing what her own lifelong training had drilled and forced a crystallized in her as a student of the way. She backed away, two, three steps at a time, closer and closer to the copse of bamboos and bushes, past the rotating screens and into the uneven ground where there would be more things for her to hide behind and less room for Korra to use her legs. Korra, seemingly slightly annoyed at her own inability to land a solid hit, followed.

They stepped into the woods, deeper and deeper, where the trees were dense and thick and the sun no longer beat down their necks. The morning heat was rising, and both of them could feel sweat pearl and roll down their brows and backs.

Korra could no longer hit her using kicks, but was too skilled, too cautious a fighter to leave any obvious opening Asami might exploit, and Asami couldn’t afford a failed attack. The older girl could see that it was growing harder for Korra to fight like she wanted, branches and bushes were getting in the way, but there were no signs of her slowing down. Korra’s eyes were strictly focused on Asami, half an eye on their surroundings, and she thought she saw a hint of appreciation in them.

And then, Korra made a mistake. Just a tiny one, a brief moment over-extension in a three-step punch, an almost undetectable lurch in her thrust, but it was enough. Asami struck. She moved like water, stepped into the other’s zone like a shadow in the night, gained a solid grip on Korra’s extended arm and pulled, her other hand came up, angled to slam into her chin with a flat palm.

Asami saw her hand as if in slow-motion when it connected with flesh. The avatar cried out as her head snapped back and her teeth clicked together. Asami pulled her close, grabbed her shirt in a collar-grip and _pushed_ , as hard as she could, getting herself out of the end of her extremities.

They crashed headlong into a tree, Korra first, before she whirled and rolled Asami around and smashed them into another. Asami could feel her shoulder blades bang against the rough surface and smelled grass, mixed with salt, briefly, before the air was forced from her lungs. They fell to the sloping ground in a heap of surprised shouts and grunts, the fight quickly evolving into frantic grappling. Asami soon realized that this was dangerous ground. Korra was much, much stronger than her physically and she soon found herself pinned with one of her arms locked. Her other arm was still holding onto the side of Korra’s collar in a solid grip, one of her legs pushing against the younger girl’s mid-section.

Asami gritted her teeth, slowing her breath, and let out a strangled cry as she pushed her body to the brim. For the few seconds, the world was nothing but the rippling pain of her muscles and the heavier form of Korra on top. Rocking them, back and forth, she fought for balance and refused to give, forcing a desperate change in the status quo. She felt the ice in her mind burn, burn, until transforming into a cool, surging of water under skin.

Korra, who had been focused on their core weights, felt that something was off almost instantly. She fought back, but was overwhelmed when Asami forcedly pulled her upwards, body curled like a hard-sprung coil. Her eyes widened as she met Asami’s, a heartbeat to late, as the dark-haired girl roared and suddenly rolled them into one instance of smooth, lazy motion.

It was a _perfect_ throw.

Korra flew backwards, spinning like a ragdoll, until she crashed into something hard and old and wooden. A huge, resounding crack was heard and she felt the surface give in. Old instincts took over and she threw her arm out, letting a push of air-bending soften a potentially spine-injuring fall-- only to discover that the ground was lukewarm water. A stale, brackish taste filled her nose. _Pond_ water. Yuck.

Asami stared at her when she broke surface. Korra opened her mouth, half in protest but unable to deny the facts. She bent, and lost. Asami had won.

Her girlfriend was _amazing_.

Asami felt half unconscious from the last, grueling exertion. She didn’t get up, didn’t even try, as she simply smiled and gasped for air and giggled. Everything hurt. _Every single thing_ , still attached to her body was suddenly trying to remind her of exactly what she had done. She had won an all-out grapple against Korra, and the sun could not have been warmer.

Korra just looked back at her with eyes full of wonder. She climbed out of the pond, bent the worst of the water from her clothes and left the rest for the sun. Asami was smiling with her whole face, _beautifully_ , and visibly in pain. Korra sometimes felt like a camel yak beside her. She sat down beside her and brushed an errant strand of hair from Asami’s face.

“You’re amazing.” Korra told her. “And I think I’m hurt.”

Asami’s giggles blew up into laughter.

“ _You’_ re hurt? I feel like a bag of contusions and cracked bones.” Asami said, pushing herself up using her elbows.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, it was a good fight.”

Korra made an affirmative sound. “We’re a good match.” Both snickered.

They lay in silence for a few moments, letting the sun and shade and everything summer wash over them, until Korra felt Asami tug at her arm.

“I want my prize.” She said, sounding both smug and expectant. “There was something about honor and kisses, I believe.”

The young avatar’s face softened. Then, she leaned down and bestowed Asami the spoils of her victory.

<.<.<.<.<.<

Jinora was unsure of what she had walked in on.

She had followed the shouts and sounds of excessive violence worriedly, only to find the pond with the old wooden stake, used by the air-benders to practice mediation, to be in splinters. It had also been moved from the center of the water to the shore, completely cracked in the middle by some massive force. And there amidst broken branches and bent grass, Korra and Asami were caught up in the throes of some bizarre make-out session, with Korra trying to apply healing water to Asami’s shoulder while the latter was trying to pull Korra down for more kissing.

The spirits soared through the small opening, gentle and alive and reacting to the avatar’s emotions.

Rohan looked at her and grinned, pumping a pudgy fist into the air as if he was happy. Jinora looked down at her strange, wordless brother. She sighed and turned away. Neither Asami nor Korra saw them.

“Come on, Rohan. We need to go and tell the acolytes so they can begin repair.”

The boy looked back at the couple, then took his sister’s hand and followed with bouncy, short steps.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Writing Bedrolls made me realize just how rusty I've become. Seriously, I loved the fact that you guys liked it but damn, writing part of it was like pulling teeth. This story was an exercise in writing something more face-paced and visceral and closer to what real martial arts feels like. I missed writing stuff like this. Grappling is any technique or manuever applied to improve relative position, balance, escaping or submitting, a good example is an art like Judo.
> 
> Also, if you recognized the title without the almighty help of google. KUDOS.
> 
> Some interesting questions I received after Bedrolls:
> 
> Q: Is Korra and Asami in a 'physically intimate' adult relationship in your fic-verse?
> 
> A: No, not yet.
> 
> Q: WHAT?? WHY???
> 
> A: Bryke took two seasons to make them hold hands. I loved the fact that they spent time really building this relationship some solid ground. So no, in my fic-verse, Korra and Asami did not fall through the spirit portal to commence in reality-bending, landscape-changing sex. I'm sure Korra will get Asami out of her clothes at some point, and I look forward to write that when it happens.
> 
> Q: What was up with Rohan?
> 
> A: This is a continuity. I may or may not be building stuff for a future story. 
> 
> Comments are the lifeblood of a fanfic-writer ;D. *nudge*


End file.
